Introduction
by hughville
Summary: House hires a new fellow to work on his team. Her name is Alison Cameron.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have often wondered what happened when House hired Cameron. So I wrote this. It takes place before _The Pilot_. It will probably be 6 chapters when it is finished. Each additional chapter for each season so far. It's a total AU fic; just things I imagine go on when we can't see the characters. House and Cameron share too many knowing glances. And Chase did think Cameron slept with House (remember that episode from Season 4?).**

**Chapter 1: Introduction**

Doctor Alison Cameron sat in the chair facing Dr. House's desk. She checked her watch. Her interview was scheduled for ten and it was now ten thirty. She wondered if she should go back down to the reception desk. She waited another fifteen minutes and then gathered up her CV and purse.

"Going somewhere?" a voice behind her inquired.

She dropped her purse and turned to face the person who spoke. Her eyes widened and her heart rate increased. He was tall and leaned on a cane. He wore jeans, a dress shirt over a graphic t-shirt and a suit jacket. She noticed that he had a slightly rumpled just rolled out of bed look about him. Desire stabbed through her, hot and sharp, at the thought of him in bed. She lowered her eyes and sat back down.

He limped around his desk and carefully lowered himself into the chair. Supporting his right leg, he swung his feet up onto his desk. She focused on the treads of his tennis shoes.

He reached out and flipped through the stack of papers on his desk, pulling one free and squinting at it.

"So," he looked at the paper, "Cameron. Why do you want to work for me?"

Cameron drew in a deep breath and looked at him. She opened her mouth but no sound issued forth. He had the most beautiful clear blue eyes she'd ever seen. Those eyes bored into hers. She felt a blush creep up her neck and flood across her cheeks. He sat waiting for her to answer, a look of mocking amusement in his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort.

She cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. "You're one of the best diagnosticians in the country," she told him quietly.

"And?' he prompted.

She looked at him in confusion.

He sighed and tossed the paper on his desk. "You telling me that doesn't answer my question. Why do you want to work for me?"

"I think you can teach me a lot and I want to learn from you." The words left her in a breathless rush.

He nodded. "Good. You can start learning tomorrow at nine. Bring bagels and coffee. I like mine black."

Cameron arrived the next morning at eight-forty-five carrying a bag of bagels and a large black coffee. Dr. House's office and the adjoining conference room were dark. She pushed open the door to the conference room and put the bag and coffee on the table. She hung her computer case and jacket on the coat rack by the door. Crossing the room, she opened the blinds and bright sunlight flooded in. She moved to the sink and opened cabinet doors looking for plates. She found red coffee cups, coffee stirrers and a box of animal crackers.

"Hey," a friendly Australian voice called out. "You must be Dr. Cameron."

Cameron turned and saw a handsome young man smiling at her. He had soft blonde hair, gentle green eyes and a wide smile. He wore a white lab coat like hers and carried a briefcase which he hung below hers on the coat rack.

"You brought bagels?" he said, nodding toward the bag on the table. "Nice. I'm guessing the coffee is for House?"

Cameron nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize there was anyone else…" she let the sentence trail off.

He stepped forward and held out his hand. "No worries," he assured her. "I'm Robert Chase."

She shook his outstretched hand. "Alison Cameron."

"Nice to meet you, Cameron," he smiled.

The door swung open and House entered. Cameron stared at him. He was wearing jeans again. She saw they were molded to his muscled thighs. She had a brief image of those thighs nestled between hers. She flushed and shook her head. He looked at them and nodded. She watched as he headed for his office. When he returned, she saw he'd shed his suit jacket and his briefcase. He wore a red graphic t-shirt that strained across his broad chest and revealed tanned muscled arms. She tore her eyes away from him and focused on the bag of bagels sitting on the table. His long fingered hands grabbed the bag and opened it. He extracted a bagel and bit into it. She watched as he picked up the coffee and drank.

"Nice," he told her, sitting in the chair at the head of the table. "I saw Cuddy. She told me I can hire another person."

Chase sat down and pulled the bag of bagels toward him. He pulled a bagel out and looked in the bag again. He grabbed a container of cream cheese and a packet of cutlery.

Cameron sat in the chair next to House. He lounged back in his chair and watched her from beneath lowered brows. She watched his even white teeth bite into the bagel. His tongue darted out and licked at some crumbs on his lower lip. She swallowed and looked away.

"When do we see patients?" she asked.

Chase snorted and continued to smear cream cheese on his bagel. "We don't," he told her. "Dr. House only sees one patient at a time."

"And then only when I'm forced to," House drawled. He drank from his coffee cup again, still watching her. She watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. Desire curled through her again, hot and strong. What was wrong with her? She'd never reacted this way to a man before; not even her husband had affected her the way this man did. She crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest.

"So, when do we get a patient?" she asked.

"Dunno," House told her with a sly glint in his eye. "I'll be in my office. Porn awaits."

He pushed himself up and limped into his office. Cameron turned to look at Chase in surprise. He smiled at her, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"You'll get used to him," he assured her. "Dr. House always says what he thinks and he likes to shock people." He stood and smiled at her. "I'm going to get some coffee. Want anything?"

She shook her head. Once he was gone, she rose and walked slowly to House's office. He sat at his computer. She saw that he was playing Sudoku. Quietly, she came to stand behind him.

"Help you?" he asked without taking his eyes from the screen. She saw that he was playing an advanced version of the game, more complicated than any she'd tried.

"Thought you were going to look at porn?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes.

"Wrist is a little sore," he explained. "Decided to rest it. Unless you're volunteering." He turned to look at her, those incredible blue eyes shining with amusement.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked him, aggravation edging her voice.

"Well," he drawled. "First, you can sit on my lap—"

"I mean since we don't have a patient," she interrupted quickly, color staining her cheeks again,

"Like I said, first you can sit on my lap," he stopped and snapped his fingers. "Oh, right, I got you!" He grinned at her and she folded her arms, refusing to be baited. He turned back to his game. "You could go through my mail."

Cameron looked at the stack of mail on his desk and sighed. She gathered up the envelopes and returned to the conference room.

The next three days followed the same pattern. Cameron arrived early and opened the office. She made coffee and dealt with House's correspondence. Chase entertained himself with crossword puzzles and his computer. House spent the majority of his time at his computer or down the hall in the office of Dr. Wilson, the head of Oncology.

On the fourth day, Dr. Cuddy strode into House's office and tossed a file on his desk. Cameron stood beside House's desk waiting for him to finish signing the letters she'd typed up. They both looked up when Cuddy walked in.

"Good morning, Dr. Cameron," Cuddy greeted her kindly.

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy," Cameron responded with a smile.

"Good morning, Dr. House," Cuddy continued. "You have a patient."

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy," House said, leaning back in his chair. "Nice cleavage."

Cuddy's hand rose to her collar and flicked the edges. Cameron looked at him in surprise.

"And I don't have a patient. I am currently patient free," he continued.

Cuddy leaned forward and pushed the file toward him. "Not anymore," she informed him. She smiled at him and pivoted on her heel. House tilted his head and watched her walk out. He picked up the file and handed it to Cameron. She took it from him and opened it. Skimming the information, she flipped through the pages. She jumped slightly when House's leg brushed against hers as he turned in his chair. She looked at him with wide eyes, noting the knowing smile that spread across his face.

"The patient had a stroke," she said. "No clots, no sign of trauma. She's sixteen."

House smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Good. We have a patient."

The next week was a blur of activity for Cameron. Tests, lab work and conversations with the patient and her mother filled her days. She learned from Chase that House avoided patients. Yet she found it interesting that House knew the patient's status at all times. It was a Friday afternoon when she learned the reason House avoided patients.

He stood, staring at the white board with its list of symptoms. "Everybody lies," he mused. He turned to face them. "Go find out what she's lying about."

Chase rose from the table and grabbed his jacket. Cameron looked at House in surprise.

"I've talked to Regan and her mother. They've told us everything," she informed him.

House came to stand over her. "Everybody lies," he repeated. "Go check their house."

Cameron sighed and rose. House didn't move and her breasts brushed against his chest when she stood up. She looked up at him and saw the same hooded glance and half smile. She narrowed her eyes and slid past him, dragging her breasts across his chest. She heard the whisper of a laugh from him and glared back at him.

"I'll go get a key," she told him.

"Don't bother," he replied. "Chase is an idiot but he can break in without much difficulty."

"That's illegal," she protested.

"Only if you get caught," he smirked. "Maybe I should hire someone with a criminal record."

Their search of the house turned up nothing of use. House mocked them and ordered more tests. Cameron spent several more days with the patient and in the lab. Each day, her attraction to House grew. He was mocking and occasionally cruel but she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted another man. Finally, when she thought they would never find the answer and Regan would die, House put all the pieces together and solved the puzzle. The tumor that had been hiding from them was revealed and removed. Regan went home and House went back to his online puzzles and treks to Wilson's office. Cameron went back to answering his mail and Chase did his crossword puzzles.

A week passed and Cameron was working late finishing up some charts she'd found. House was in his office working on something; she wasn't sure what. He had books spread across his desk and a medical website up on his computer. She carried the files into his office and dropped them on his desk. The halls were deserted and it was eerily quiet.

He looked up at her and leaned back in his chair. "Why are you still here?" he asked.

"I'm working," she replied. "Why are you still here?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm working." She heard the mocking tone and sighed.

"You need to sign those," she told him, indicating the files. She folded her arms.

"You don't approve of me," he laughed softly. "Not that I care but I find it interesting."

She continued to stare down at him. "Are you going to sign those?"

He smiled at her and pulled the first file toward him. He flipped it open and signed it with a flourish.

She leaned over him and closed the file, placing the next one in front of him. She felt his breath on her arm as he signed the form. The scent of him made her dizzy. Her hands shook slightly as she flipped the file closed and opened the next one.

"Your hands are shaking," he commented with a quiet laugh.

"Too much coffee," she lied. She grabbed another file and smacked it down in front of him. His soft laughter caused red dots of anger to dance before her eyes. She felt the blood heat her skin as she blushed. She turned to glare at him and was startled by his proximity. His mouth was inches from hers. His eyes even bluer up close. Time hung suspended between them. Later she would wonder who initiated the kiss. It may have been him, she wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that one moment he was smiling lazily at her and the next his mouth was on hers, tongue brushing against her lips, coaxing them apart. Then somehow she was straddling his hips and his hands were fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. Her own hands were under his t-shirt stroking his warm skin. The next thing she knew, they were on the floor behind his desk, hands and mouths seeking and touching. She strained against him, trying to pull him closer. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, wringing soft cries of pleasure from her. Then he was inside her, thrusting and moaning, his lips against her sweat slicked skin, licking and tasting. She held on to his shoulders, writhing beneath him, panting with the effort of holding on to him. Then pleasure was ripping through her, making her arch against him and cry out. Finally, she lay boneless and spent beneath him as he jerked against her, panting and gasping.

When he rolled to lie beside her, she pulled the edges of her blouse together and sat up. She smoothed her skirt and looked around for her panties. She saw them beneath his desk and reached to pick them up. She pushed them into her pocket and fastened her bra. Her hands shook slightly as she buttoned her blouse.

Behind her, she could hear House's ragged breathing as he zipped up his jeans.

"This can't happen again," he told her.

Slowly she rose and looked down at him. "I know," she replied quietly. She watched as he pulled himself to his feet. The lazy smile was gone, replaced by a scowl.

After that, there was always an underlying tension. The knowledge of what happened in his office was always there between them. Sometimes she would catch him looking at her and she would remember the feel of his mouth on her skin and she would have to turn away. No one else ever found out what occurred between them and she was glad. It was a secret they shared.

*****TBC*****


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Secret**

Cameron's resignation came as a shock. House had been wracking his brain trying to come up with a way to keep all three of them; trying to find a way to best Vogler. Then she'd shown up at his door looking fragile and yet resolute. She'd held out her hand and he'd looked away, afraid to touch her; afraid they'd end up in his bed if he did. He'd looked into her tear filled eyes, listened to her soft voice explaining why she had to leave. Why had he given in to his impulses that night? Why had he kissed her? She wouldn't be leaving if he'd just left her alone. But, no, he'd had to kiss her; pull her onto his lap; roll her beneath him on the floor.

Now Vogler was gone. Cameron could come back and order could be restored. House could have his team back and that thought made him happy. He grabbed his cane and rose from his desk. He had to do this before he thought too much about it and backed out.

The door to her apartment loomed in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he raised his cane and began rapping on the portal. The door swung open and he had to look away. She was dressed in shorts and a tank top, drenched in sweat. The last time he'd seen her drenched in sweat she'd been writhing beneath him on the floor of his office. He gave her his carefully rehearsed, casually mocking speech. He mentally cursed when his pager went off and she closed the door in his face. He hung his head in resignation when he heard her lock it.

He returned to the hospital and dealt with the plague and a patient. He was glad for the distraction. It kept him from picturing Cameron drenched in sweat, moaning in pleasure beneath him. Once the final dose of meningitis medicine had been dispensed and his patient diagnosed, he returned to Cameron's apartment. He convinced her to come back to work. She agreed to return in exchange for a date. He agreed, surprising himself as the words slipped past his lips. He wondered if his shock showed on his face. He would wonder later what possessed him to agree to such a condition. She closed the door again and he stood in the hallway fighting an internal battle with himself. A part of him wanted to knock again and insinuate his way in to her apartment and her bed. Another part of him knew he should turn around and return home; treat her like any other employee. He raised his cane and rapped on the door again. As he waited for her to answer the door, he wondered again if he'd lost his mind. He'd managed to keep his hands off her after the Monster Truck Rally.

_Just barely_, his mind whispered. _You'll more than make up for it now._

"Shut up," he muttered. He started to turn away, intending to leave. He should leave. This was a huge mistake.

The door swung open again. His turned back and his breath caught in his throat. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

She looked at him in surprise. "What-"

He pushed into her apartment and pulled her against his chest. "No talking," he told her. His mouth sought hers and he sighed when she responded to his kiss. So long as she didn't talk, he didn't have to think about what he was doing. He could just react; just give in to his need for her.

He pushed her farther into the apartment. "Bedroom?" he panted. She kissed him again and pulled him in the direction of her bedroom. He managed to remove her clothes before they got there. As he lowered her to the bed, she stripped his shirt and t-shirt from him. He had no idea when she'd removed his jacket. Her hands fumbled with the button on his jeans. Then he was free of them and lying beside her on the bed. The rational part of his mind was shouting at him to leave, that this was a mistake. The other part of his brain whispered to touch her, feel her warm soft skin, kiss her, and make her whimper. He ignored the shouting and listened to the whisper. He lowered his head and took her breast into his mouth feeling her nipple harden. His need for her was overwhelming. It frightened him but he continued to explore her slender body with his mouth and hands. She arched against him, crying out as his hands dipped between her legs. He rolled onto his back pulling her on top of him. She pushed herself up, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulders. He groaned as she slid down on him. He gripped her hips, thrusting up against her. He gave himself over to the warm slippery feel of her. She cried out and he felt her muscles clench on him as she climaxed. Then he was spiraling away on a feeling of such intense pleasure he felt light headed. When she collapsed against him, he gasped at the feel of her overheated, sweat slicked body sliding against his. Neither spoke, just lay with limbs entwined. House had never been one to cuddle after sex but he was reluctant to lose the feel of her body against his; reluctant to lose her warmth. The memory of the last time he'd had sex with her flooded his mind.

_This can't happen again._

_I know. _

Yet, here he was, slowly regaining control of his heart rate and breathing after the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced; so much for this never happening again.

Cameron awoke slowly, in stages. First, she was aware of a weight across her breasts. Then, she was aware of breath stirring her hair. Finally, she was aware of a strong leg pinning hers down. Turning her head slightly, she saw House. He was sound asleep, snoring lightly. His face was relaxed and his forehead rested against the side of her head. His arm and leg pinned her to the bed and against his side. She lightly ran her hand along his arm, feeling the skin, muscle and light dusting of hair. He snorted but didn't awaken. She shifted, rolling on to her side so she faced him. He still didn't awaken, just adjusted his hold on her. She slid her arm across his ribs and around his back. Sighing softly, she drifted off to sleep again.

House jerked awake. He looked around in confusion. Reality hit him like a sledge hammer. He felt Cameron's warm, naked body pressed against his. He felt her breath, soft and fragrant, against his neck. Her hair tickled his arm. Her leg rested soft and smooth between his. Her breasts just touched his chest. He closed his eyes. He'd fallen asleep. He'd held her in his sleep. He'd slept better than he had in months. He had to get out. Staying would be dangerous. He carefully extricated himself from her embrace. She murmured and rolled over, but didnn't awaken. He moved quietly around the apartment gathering up his clothes and dressing. He slipped silently out and tried not to hyperventilate as he made his way down the hallway. What the hell had he done?

House entered his office the next morning with Wilson lagging behind. Cameron was already there looking happy, relaxed and satisfied. He made a snarky comment to cover his discomfort and told them about the patient he'd taken on. When he asked her not to mention the conditions of her return she'd simply smiled at him, serene and content. He'd definitely have to stay away from her; after the dinner date, at any rate. He would definitely, most assuredly, absolutely not sleep with her again.

He thought about that vow as he stripped her simple black dress from her. He thought about it as she maneuvered him to his bedroom. It went completely out of his head when her mouth closed over his hard penis and she sucked the tip. He didn't think about it while he kissed and licked every inch of her silky, scented skin. It was the farthest thing from his mind when he thrust against her, hands gripping her narrow hips. He forgot all about it when pleasure, intense, mind blowing, earth shattering pleasure thundered through him. Instead of remembering his vow to never sleep with her again, he wrapped his arms around her and drifted off with the feel of her warm body on his and the scent of her filling his head. He didn't think about his vow until the next morning.

Muted sunlight filtered into the bedroom and he awoke abruptly. Cameron lay half on top of him, her left breast pressed against his chest, her hip resting on his and her left leg tangled with his. Her arm was looped around his neck, fingers splayed in his hair, her breath fanning his cheek as she slept. He remembered that she had barely rolled off him, too spent to move far. They'd fallen asleep like that, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him. He'd broken his vow. He'd given in and slept with her again. He'd spent the entire night with her; held her all night. He was an idiot; an idiot with no self control where she was concerned.

He felt her lips graze his cheek. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep..

He wanted nothing more than to kiss her and make love to her again. So, he made her cry instead. He informed her, in his most calm logical voice, that he had no intention of pursuing a relationship with her. She was nothing more than his employee and he'd made a colossal mistake, but it would never happen again. He didn't love her, would never love her. It was nothing more than sex, a release. He grimaced slighty at that particular lie. She left his apartment, eyes red and swollen. He sat on the edge of his bed and wondered why the hell he had to be such a bastard.

She acted like nothing happened. He expected her to be bitchy or emotional. She was neither. She treated him as she always did; as if nothing had happened between them. So he did the same. It worked for a while. Then Stacy came back into his life and turned it upside down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Choices**

Stacy's return brought up memories and feelings House didn't want to deal with. Her husband's illness threw House into contact with Stacy and made him realize how much he missed her. Then there was Cameron. What was it she'd said earlier?

_I thought you were too screwed up to love anyone. I was wrong. You just couldn't love me. It's okay. I'm happy for you._

Funny thing was she didn't look happy. She looked heartbroken. House picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Can you come over? I need to talk to you," he said and then hung up. He moved to sit on the couch. Reaching out, he picked up the remote off the coffee table. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. He eventually found a wrestling match and settled back to wait.

He pushed himself off the couch and limped to the door when he heard the knock. Swinging it open, he stood back. Cameron looked at him, but didn't enter.

"What do you want, House?" she asked quietly.

"Come in," he told her.

She shook her head. "Just tell me what you want so I can leave."

"God, you're stubborn," he told her, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the apartment. He steered her toward the couch and pushed her down. Sitting next to her, he leaned back and sighed. Silence stretched between them. House stared up at the ceiling, unsure how to proceed. Calling her had seemed a good idea at the time, but now that she was here, he was lost. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked small and impossibly young. Her hair was scraped back in a messy ponytail and she wore faded jeans along with a t-shirt. He fixed his attention on her feet which she'd propped on his coffee table. She'd removed her shoes at some point. He stared in fascination at the red polish on her toenails. The sight of those red toenails was strangely erotic. He looked away.

"House," she finally sighed. "It's one a.m. Why did you ask me over?"

He rubbed his thumb across his forehead and grimaced. Leave it to her to ask him outright. Why couldn't she let him mock her and work his way around to it?

"Why did you come?"

She dropped her feet to the floor and stood, annoyance radiating from her. "I'm pathetic and an idiot, remember?"

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. "Oh, sit down," he told her.

She sat on the edge of the couch and folded her arms. He sighed. This would be harder than he imagined. He smoothed his hands down his thighs, rubbing the creases out of his jeans. No matter how he phrased it, he knew she'd get angry, so he might as well just come right out and say it.

"I have a proposal for you," he said and immediately grimaced. Why had he used that particular word? "Well, more of a proposition, really." He smirked in spite of himself.

He glanced at her briefly. She sat stone faced, arms folded. He rolled his eyes.

"I think we should continue to sleep together." There, he'd said it. He moved down the couch putting as much space as possible between them and waited for the explosion.

She stood up and he closed his eyes, flinching slightly, waiting for the yelling he was sure was coming.

"Fine," she told him.

He looked at her in disbelief. "Seriously?" This was not at all what he expected. He thought he'd have to cajole, whine, and mock her into accepting.

She shrugged. "Why not? You said it yourself. It's just sex; a release."

"Seriously?"

"Why not?" she repeated.

"Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes at him and walked past him. As she began walking down the hallway, he rose with difficulty and followed her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he sputtered. "What are you doing?"

"You did invite me over for sex, right?" she asked.

He stared at her in mute surprise. She shook her head and leaned against the wall, looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know what to say. He'd expected her to yell at him and storm out in a fit of moral outrage. He expected he would have to work hard to convince her. Yet, here she stood, calmly waiting for him to go to bed with her. Realization flooded over him. She thought he was playing a game with her. She thought she was besting him. She didn't realize he was serious. He decided to play along rather than let her see his disappointment.

"Come on, House," she said. "Are we doing this or not?"

Pushing his regret down, he grinned ruefully. "Oh, you're good," he conceded. "What would you have done if I'd gone through with this?"

She smiled sadly at him as she passed him. "I would have slept with you. I'm pathetic, remember?"

He hung his head and listened to her gather up her shoes as she moved toward the door. Turning, he limped as quickly as he could down the hall. She had the door open and he blocked her path.

"House," she sighed. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," he told her honestly. He leaned down and very gently pressed his mouth against hers. She responded for a brief moment before pulling back. Ducking under his arm, she slipped past him and out the door. He closed his eyes and leaned against the door frame.

House stretched and threw his cards down on the table. "I'm going home," he told Wilson.

The cleaning crew had removed all traces of the benefit with the exception of the table he and Wilson occupied. The workers milled around waiting for the two doctors to leave.

"Yeah, me, too," Wilson responded, covering a yawn.

The two men rose and grabbed their jackets. House reached out to scoop up the money lying on the table. Wilson sighed as House pocketed the wad of cash. House smirked as he shrugged into his tuxedo jacket. Picking up his cane, he made his way to the exit. Bright morning sunlight stabbed his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted. Slowly, he made his way to his car. As he approached it, he saw Cameron leaning against the driver's side door.

Since that late night visit, she'd treated him with cool professionalism. She'd avoided him during his pursuit of Stacy and only recently been warming up to him again.

"How long have you been standing out here?" he asked, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

"Where's your bike?" she asked, avoiding his question.

"Tuxes and motorcycles don't mix," he told her, motioning for her to move aside so he could unlock the door. She remained where she was, leaning against the door, watching him.

He sighed and looked off into the distance. "I'm not in the mood to talk about my obsessions or whatever it is you want to annoy me about," he told her.

"I changed my mind," she informed him.

He frowned and looked back at her. "About what?"

"Sleeping together. I thought about it and I've decided I want to sleep with you. No strings, no emotional commitments."

He looked at her for several long moments before nodding. "Good." He tried not to show his surprise. He refused to identify the other feeling rising in him. She moved away from the car and began walking away.

"I'll meet you at your apartment," she called over her shoulder.

House nodded. "Good," he repeated. He leaned against the car door and drew in a deep breath. He suddenly felt light headed. He was tired, that was all. He'd been up all night solving that kid's case. The lightheadedness and the spots dancing before his eyes were fatigue, nothing more. He refused to acknowledge the tendrils of desire coursing through him. Any normal man would feel them when presented with the prospect of sex with a beautiful woman. He opened the car door and slid behind the wheel.

Cameron had let herself into his apartment. She was sitting on the couch, watching television. He noticed she still wore the figure hugging fuchsia dress but had removed her shoes. House shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch. He moved to sit beside her. Propping his feet on the coffee table, he examined the ornate handle of his cane.

"What made you change your mind?' he asked her, eyes fixed on the elaborate swirls of the handle.

"What difference does it make?" she countered.

He shrugged. "None, I guess." He looked up at the television. "What are you watching?"

She turned the television off and turned to him. "Nothing," she told him. Reaching out, she stroked his cheek. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"You look exhausted," she remarked.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "You don't look so hot yourself," he replied.

She stood and held her hand out to him. He looked from her outstretched hand to her face. He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, ignoring her hand. She laughed softly and began walking down the hall toward his bedroom. He followed slowly. She was stepping out of her dress when he entered the room. Very carefully, she laid the dress over a chair and turned to look at him. His breath left him in a rush at the sight of her standing there in nothing but lacy fuchsia panties. It was the same reaction he'd had earlier when he'd seen her in the dress. She smiled the same smile she'd smiled then.

He leaned his cane against the bed and reached out for her. She came into his arms and he kissed her, hesitantly at first, then with growing passion. She unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. Their mouths continued to meet and part, tongues tangling and sliding together. His hands traced her silky skin causing her to shiver. He stepped out of his tuxedo trousers when she pushed them down his legs. Her hands slid beneath the waistband of his boxer shirts and stroked his ass as she slid them down. He groaned against her mouth as her fingers dug into the muscle. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her to the bed. His hands stilled and his mouth pulled away from hers. He couldn't lift her. His leg wouldn't support her slight weight. She seemed to know what he was thinking because she moved to the bed and sat on the edge. Holding his hand against the jagged scar on his leg he joined her. He felt her hand stoke the smooth skin of his left thigh. Moving back onto the bed, she lay back and held out her hand to him. Slowly, carefully, he lay beside her. His hand shook slightly as he took hers. Feeling her warm skin against his palm, he relaxed. She pulled his head down and kissed him. Her leg slipped between his and he kissed her again. Then he felt her push against his chest and he groaned as her body slid beneath his. He pushed himself up and looked down at her.

"Is this okay?" she asked, running her hands down his chest.

He knew what she was really asking was if his leg would allow him to make love to her this way. Make love? Where had that come from? This was just sex. He scowled and thrust into her. This was just sex. He lowered himself down onto her pliant body, feeling her breasts flatten beneath his chest. This was just sex. Her legs slid around his waist as he continued to thrust in and out of her. This was just sex. He felt her muscles clamp down on him as she climaxed. This was just sex. He felt his stomach muscles tighten. This was just sex. He groaned as pleasure caused him to jerk and shudder against her. Was this just sex? He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her distinctive scent. Was this making love? He rolled to one side and pulled her against his chest, stroking back her hair. Was he falling in love? He closed his eyes. Sleep crept over him. What the hell was this? He slept.

*****TBC*****


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I changed the kiss scene from _Half-Wit_ around a little. :) It all goes majorly AU from here. I plan to completely change the way things went in S4 and S5. I hope you'll hang in with me. I'll try real hard not to do anything insane. :D**

**Chapter 4: Consequences**

House leaned on the counter in his kitchen, gulping down water. He'd just run a mile but he felt like he'd completed the Boston Marathon. He opened another bottle of water and poured it over his head. Water splashed onto the floor but he didn't care. It would dry. He stripped off his wet t-shirt and started toward the bathroom. A knock on the front door stopped him. He knew it wasn't Wilson. He hoped it wasn't Cuddy. He didn't feel like dealing with her right now. A more forceful knock sounded and he hung his head before turning to answer the door. He jumped back when it swung open and Cameron entered carrying several plastic grocery bags. House took two from her and looked at her in surprise. She hadn't been to see him since he was released from the hospital a month ago.

He saw her eyes travel down his chest and settle on the scar on his stomach. He resisted the impulse to cover it up.

He leered at her suggestively. "You're right on time," he told her. "Doctor cleared me for all regular activities."

She shook her head and carried the bags into the kitchen. "I brought you food," she called out.

"Yeah, I got that from the bags of food," he replied, following her into the kitchen. He put the bags on the counter and peered inside one. He saw cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, and bell peppers in one bag. His lip curled in disgust and he looked in the other bag. It contained peaches, pears, apples, bananas, and grapes.

"What the hell is all this?" he asked in disgust. "Where are the chips, beer and frozen pizza?"

"You need to eat healthy while you recover," she told him, pushing past him to put more vegetables in the refrigerator.

"Beer is made from wheat," he informed her, moving to peer into the other bags. "Wheat is healthy." He held up the bread. "One hundred percent whole wheat? Only hippies eat this crap." He turned to watch her put the rest of the vegetables in the refrigerator. He tilted his head and admired the sight of her bent over the vegetable bin. She wore snug jeans and a fitted t-shirt. He walked over and let his hand rest on the small of her back. His fingers slid up under the hem of her shirt, caressing her warm skin.

"Did you get me peanut butter?" he whispered as his fingers traced the bones of her spine.

A soft laugh escaped her as she stood up. "Yes, House, I got you peanut butter."

He leaned back against the counter and watched her as she put the rest of the groceries away.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Wilson said he wouldn't be able to get groceries for you while he's at that convention," she replied, not meeting his eyes. "And you took care of me when I was high on Meth."

House knew what she was referring to. They'd been trying to diagnose a patient infected with HIV who coughed blood on Cameron. Cameron had shown up on House's doorstep, strung out and horny. He'd taken her in and sat with her. They'd watched television. Well, he'd watched television and she'd tried to seduce him. It had taken every ounce of will power he possessed not to take advantage of her. She'd finally staggered down the hall and collapsed on his bed. It was the first and only time they had actually just slept in the same bed. He would never admit to anyone that he'd liked having her warm body pressed up against his back. He would never admit to anyone that he slept better with her curled up next to him.

She gathered up the bags and stuffed them under the sink. He folded his arms and continued to watch her.

"You wasted your money," he informed her. "I'll never cook any of that."

She smirked at him. "That's why I'm staying here with you for the next week," she replied.

He stared at her in wordless shock as he exited the kitchen and disappeared out the front door. He was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen with his mouth hanging open when she returned with a suitcase. He followed her down the hallway to his bedroom. He watched as she placed the suitcase on his bed and began to unpack. Panic flooded through him making him dizzy and light headed.

"I don't want you to stay here," he squeaked. Damn was that his voice? He sounded like a choir boy.

"Too bad," she informed him, moving into the bathroom. "I'm on vacation and this is where I intend to spend it."

"No!"

She came out the bathroom and closed her empty suitcase. "Wilson is worried about you. Chase and Foreman are on vacation. I told Cuddy I would keep an eye on you."

"No!"

She smiled up at him. "You should go shower," she told him. "You stink." He watched her walk down the hallway. A moment later he heard the television.

He kicked off his tennis shoes and peeled off his socks, leaving them in a pile on the floor. As he made his way to the bathroom, he stripped off his shorts and boxers, leaving them on the floor, too. He didn't close the bathroom door, but turned on the water and stepped into the shower. If she wanted to stay, she would have to deal with him as he was. He wasn't changing his normal habits just because she decided to insinuate herself into his apartment.

Three days. She'd been living with him for three days. He sat on the couch watching _The New Yankee Workshop_. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner. He'd eaten more vegetables and fruit in the last three days than he had in the last three years. She was an excellent cook but he would never tell her that. His apartment was cleaner than it had been in years, too. No dust, no dirty dishes, no dirty clothes heaped on the floor. She made the bed each day. He tried to convince himself he hated it. He complained long and loud which made her laugh. Secretly, he loved having her with him. He loved going to bed with her each night and waking up each morning with her naked body entwined with his. He loved that his apartment smelled like her; fresh and clean. He would never admit it, of course. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He levered himself off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen.

"What the hell are you cooking in here?" he asked. Peering over her shoulder, he dipped his finger in the sauce simmering on the stove. She smacked his hand. He sucked the creamy sauce from his finger and smirked at her as he dipped his finger in for another taste.

"House," she warned. "Stop sticking your finger in the sauce." She grabbed his hand when he went in for another taste.

"It's nice," he told her, leaning down to kiss her. He could taste the sauce on her tongue when it slid into his mouth. Her hands were warm as they slid up under his shirt and stroked his skin. Warning bells went off in his head and he broke the kiss, staring down at her. Her words echoed in his head.

_No strings, no emotional commitments._

The realization that he didn't want her to leave crashed over him, leaving him breathless and sweating.

"House?" she questioned. Her voice seemed to come from the end of a very long tunnel. Her hand felt cool against his overheated skin.

"House?!" He could hear the edge of panic in her voice. He allowed her to guide him to the couch. He could feel her hands probing the scar on his neck and then her felt her hands lifting his shirt. He gasped and jumped when her hand brushed against the scar on his stomach.

"Are you in pain? House!" She took his chin in her hand and forced his eyes to meet hers. He could see the concern and fear in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he told her, his voice shaking. "Just got a little dizzy. Guess I overdid it today."

The lie sat in his throat, nearly choking him. Fear rose up like bile.

_No strings, no emotional commitments._

The strings were binding him to her; trapping him, suffocating him. He should be committed for ever agreeing to this no strings, no emotional commitment sexual relationship they had. Because, he realized with soul shattering clarity, he wanted a messy strings and emotionally committed relationship with her. He shook his head. He wasn't even making sense to himself. How could he make sense to her what he wanted, needed and felt? He needed to think, to analyze, to solve this puzzle. This puzzle of feelings and wants and strange desires she stirred in him. He looked at her; at the worry line marring the smooth skin between her eyes; her clear, trusting eyes; those eyes that saw so much. He needed time; time to think; time to analyze; time to solve this puzzle. So he did what he always did. He shut down; shut her out; distanced himself emotionally. By the time she left at the end of the week, there was a wide chasm between them. House spent the remainder of his recovery time running and thinking.

The chapel was quiet. House leaned heavily on his cane as he stood next to Cameron. Very gently he squeezed her shoulder, listening to her quiet sobs.

"I'm proud of you," he told her, his voice soft yet firm. He was. He needed her to know that.

She sat silently for several moments. He continued to grip her shoulder, needing to feel that small connection with her. He missed her more than he wanted to admit. Sure, he saw her every day at work, but she no longer came to see him at night. She no longer shared his bed. He'd very effectively pushed her away.

Slowly, she turned to look at him. He looked down into her tear ravaged face. Then she was in his arms, her tears soaking his jacket. He held her, mindless of who might see them. At the moment, he didn't care.

House looked up when Cameron walked in. He listened to her prattle on about her letter of recommendation with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Damn him and his lies anyway. He'd lied about the brain cancer to keep them all from finding out his real reason for entering the drug trial. Since Cameron had distanced herself from him (he refused to acknowledge his role in that, it was easier to go with the notion that she started it all), he was looking for ways to divert himself from the pain and misery that threatened to consume him.

He snatched the letter from her hands and scrawled his signature on it before thrusting it back at her.

She folded it and slid it into her pocket. He watched as she walked to the door. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. He sat up and opened his eyes when he heard the blinds rattling closed. He watched n surprise as Cameron walked over to the door leading to the conference room. She closed those blinds, slipped back into his office and locked the door. She strode past him to lock the door leading out to his balcony and drew the blinds on the window behind his desk.

When she came to stand next to his chair, he looked at her in surprise. She turned his chair to face her and slid onto his left leg.

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Negotiating a trade," she told him, sliding further up his leg. Her thigh came in contact with the hard bulge in his jeans and she smiled. House silently cursed his body's involuntary response to her.

"What kind of trade?' he asked. Not that he really cared. He would give her anything at the moment. He just wanted to keep her close to him.

She slid her lab coat off and let it drop to the floor. She leaned her forehead against his. He breathed n the scent of her. He missed that clean, fresh smell. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her against him.

Her lips brushed his and his eyes drifted shut. "I want a blood sample," she whispered against his mouth.

He tensed and swallowed as his eyes flew open. He was caught and he knew it. He couldn't give her a blood sample. He had to think. Sliding his hands down to her hips, he replied, "I'll give you a sperm sample."

"I've gotten plenty of those," she reminded him. "I'm after blood this time."

He needed to distract her. "No syringe," he told her. "So no blood sample."

"I have a syringe in the pocket of my lab coat."

House suppressed a sigh of frustration. Of course she did.

Her mouth came to rest against his. Her hands stroked his face. He tried to resist, but ultimately he gave in, closing his eyes and stroking his tongue into her mouth. He felt her breathing quicken. He felt his own breathing accelerate in time with his heart rate. He missed this more than he dared admit. Then he remembered what she wanted and pulled back from her. Pushing her off his lap, he looked up at her.

"I'm patient number 020406 under the name Luke N. Laura. There's a vial of blood, CT scans, MRIs, CSF, everything you need to confirm the diagnosis."

She turned to leave. He pulled his chair back to his desk. He looked up in surprise when she swung the chair around again. Her mouth closed over his in a desperate kiss, filled with longing and pent up desire.

"I miss you," she whispered against his mouth.

When he opened his eyes, she was gone. He reached up and gently rubbed his hand across his mouth.

House closed the door and limped back to his bedroom. The disillusionment on their faces had been almost more than he could bear; especially from Cameron. Chase and Foreman being disappointed he could almost deal with, but not Cameron. He crawled back into bed when he realized he needed to cancel his flight to Boston. With a sigh of disgust he threw back the covers and limped back out to the living room. Cameron stood beside the couch.

"Come back to lecture me some more?" he asked, picking up the phone and moving to his desk. He rifled through some papers until he found his flight information. Cameron watched as he dialed the airline and cancelled his flight. He slammed the phone back down in the holder and looked at her.

"I want to stay," she told him in a quiet voice. She removed her coat and moved past him to hang it in the hall closet. He watched her walk down the hallway into his bedroom. He followed her more slowly. When he entered, he saw her shoes lined up neatly next to his and her pants folded neatly on the chair. She folded her shirt and laid it neatly on top of her pants. He moved to the bed and slid under the covers as she removed her bra and picked up one of his t-shirts. She slid it over her head and flipped her hair out and over her shoulders. Moving to the side of the bed, she sat on the edge while she removed her earrings and watch. She laid them on the bedside table and slid beneath the covers.

He lay beside her staring at the ceiling. She shifted around trying to get comfortable. He rolled onto his side and looked at her. She turned her head and looked at him.

"If you wanted to move in, I would be okay with that," he told her, his eyes focused on a point above her head.

"Okay," she told him.

He sighed and pulled her into his arms. "Good," he told her.

******TBC******


	5. Chapter 5

House sat on the couch eating cereal. He rubbed his leg, trying to ease the sharp pain that had set in during the night. He slurped the milk out of the bowl and stared at the television. He thought about calling Wilson. It just wasn't as much fun to watch _The L Word_ by himself. He reached for the phone and looked at the clock. Four a.m. He replaced the phone. Somehow he didn't feel like dealing with a sleepy, grouchy Wilson. He turned his head at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Cameron appeared and House smiled slightly. The sight of her tousled hair, long legs stretching out from his t-shirt and sleep glazed eyes almost made him forget the pain in his leg. She curled up next to him on the couch. He leaned forward to put the cereal bowl on the coffee table and pulled her into his arms.

"What are you watching?" she asked.

"_The L Word_," he replied.

"What's wrong with the sound?"

"Nothing. I muted it. No sound needed."

"Don't you want to hear the dialogue?" she asked.

"Nope," he told her. He tapped the side of his head. "I play my own dialogue right here."

She laughed and rubbed her cheek against his chest. He smiled and leaned his cheek on her head. Alone with her, he could relax and be happy. He didn't need to put up defenses and protect himself from hurt. She accepted him, damage and all. No demands for change; no demands for anything more than he could give; no demands. He could simply exist with her.

_The L Word_ ended and he flicked off the television.

"How bad is the pain?" she asked quietly, her voice slightly muffled by his t-shirt.

"Bad," he confessed. He'd learned quickly there was no need to hold back. She accepted him and his pain as a matter of course. She didn't lecture him the way Wilson did. She didn't condescend to him the way Cuddy did.

"Did you take your Vicodin?"

He nodded and rubbed his thigh, pressing his palm down hard. She didn't know about the morphine on top of the book shelf. He knew she would find out eventually; just not yet. He stretched his leg out when her hand replaced his. The feel of her hand moving against his thigh sent electric currents through him. The pain became marginally tolerable.

"Have you thought about who you'll hire to replace Chase and Foreman?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied. "I've got you. Don't need anyone else."

She gave a soft snort of laughter. "Maybe you think the two of us can run the department but we can't. I can't do everything that needs to be done by myself."

"I'll help," he grinned. It was a complete lie and they both knew it but it made her laugh and momentarily took his mind off the pain in his leg.

"I'll look over applications tomorrow," she sighed.

House put his hand over hers and smiled. "My department," he reminded her. "I'll handle it."

She shook her head. "Why do I have the feeling you have something truly horrible planned?"

"Who? Me?" he asked. "No. Never."

She untangled herself from him and stood up. "I'm going back to bed. Are you coming?"

He rose with difficulty and followed her back to their bedroom.

A week later, Cameron sat at House's desk sorting through his mail. She looked up when Cuddy stormed in.

"Come with me," Cuddy commanded.

Cameron looked at her with wide eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Cuddy didn't answer, merely pivoted on one high heel and stalked out of the office. Cameron followed her. When they arrived at Cuddy's office, Cameron could see the reason for the older woman's anger. A line of what Cameron could only assume were applicants stretched out of Cuddy's office through the clinic and out into the main reception area.

"Did you know about this?" Cuddy asked, anger glinting in her eyes.

"Of course not," Cameron told her.

"You live with him," Cuddy continued. "He never mentioned this?"

"I talked to him last week about replacing Chase and Foreman. I offered to go through the applications for him. He said it was his department and he would handle it."

"Oh, he's handling it all right," Cuddy fumed. "Get him and all these people out of here. Now."

Cameron watched as Cuddy stalked away. She sighed and made her way into Cuddy's office.

House sat behind Cuddy's desk, feet propped on the smooth surface, reading a resume.

"What are you doing, House?" Cameron asked him quietly.

"Looking for replacements for your former colleagues," he informed her, not taking his eyes from the paper in his hand.

"What did Cuddy do?" she asked him.

He knew she would ask this question. He knew Cuddy would send her to deal with his latest insane stunt. He sat debating whether to tell her the reason for it or continue with his prank. Looking up into her concerned eyes, he swung his feet down and stood up, grabbing his cane.

"Listen up, people!" he shouted. "I will be choosing three finalists. I have used a complex system to narrow my choices down."

He smirked at Cameron and moved around the desk. He slowly made his way down the line and soon had three people trailing him. He turned to the remaining applicants.

"Atât timp fraieri!" he shouted. He made a walking motion with his free hand and pointed at the exit.

He turned to Cameron as the crowd moved, grumbling and complaining, out of the office.

"Problem solved," he told Cameron with a smile.

"What did you say to them?" she asked him.

"Um." One of the chosen three stepped forward. He was a young man, obviously of Indian descent with an open, friendly face. Cameron liked him immediately. "I think he said _So long, suckers_ in Romanian."

"I'm Alison Cameron," she said, extending her hand.

"Lawrence Kutner," he responded, shaking her hand and smiling at her.

"I'm Amber Volakis," a tall blonde said, stepping forward. She shook Cameron's hand and smiled.

House noted that the smile didn't reach Amber's eyes. There was something calculating and cut throat about her. He liked her. He would have to keep an eye on her, but he liked her.

The third candidate stepped forward and held out his hand to Cameron.

"Henry Dobson." He smiled at Cameron who looked at House in surprise before taking the older man's hand and shaking it.

"You, clinic," House said, pointing his cane at Kutner. "You, ER, find me a case. If it's not interesting, you're fired," he continued, swinging his cane to point at Amber. Her eyes widened and then narrowed before she turned on her heel and left. Kutner followed her out and Dobson looked at House in amusement.

"What would you like me to do?" Dobson asked.

House tapped his cane against the floor and looked out into the reception area outside Cuddy's office.

"You are going to be my eyes and ears, Sparky," House told him. "I want you to go up to the surgical department and keep an eye on Chase. Can't miss him. Smug Australian. If he figures out what you're doing, you're fired."

Dobson nodded and walked out of the office.

"Cuddy hired Chase and he's working in the surgical department?" Cameron asked him. "That's why you pulled this stunt. You wanted to punish Cuddy." She sighed and walked past him.

House followed her to the elevators. "I fired him for a reason," House said. "He needed to move on, not move upstairs."

"Chase is a good doctor," Cameron reminded him.

"Because I trained him."

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Cameron pressed the button and pushed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.

"So," Cameron began. "Now you're going to spy on him. What purpose does that serve?"

House slid her an amused glance. "It makes me happy."

Cameron laughed.

Amber found House a patient; a sufficiently interesting patient to keep House distracted. Cameron discovered that Dobson had never gained any actual experience but had gone directly into teaching after obtaining his medical degree. His mind worked like House's and his insights proved invaluable. Dobson determined that the patient, a fifty-eight year old female, had overdosed on acetomenophen. When House discovered that she had been taking the over the counter medication every four hours for nearly twenty-five years, he pronounced her an idiot and instructed his team to make her comfortable while she went into acute organ failure. Dobson also discovered that the patient's husband had been bringing her the medication during her hospital stay. When House confronted the husband, the man broke down and tearfully told House that he thought he was helping his wife.

"You did," House told him bluntly. "You helped kill her."

Cameron stood in the doorway of the patient's room. When House exited, sliding the door closed on the man's agonized sobbing, she grabbed his arm.

"Did you need to be so hard on him?" she asked.

"He's an idiot," House told her dismissively.

"You added to his guilt," she admonished.

"Someone needed to," he replied. "Why are we having this conversation?"

Cameron stopped beside him at the elevators and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I need to tell you something," she began.

"That I'm an ass?" he asked. "I thought we already established that.'

Cameron sighed in exasperation. They stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut.

"I'm pregnant."

Her words hung in the air between them. House stared at the doors, still and quiet. He barely seemed to breathe. He felt as if he might pass out. His heart thundered in his chest and his blood seemed to pool somewhere near his feet. He wanted to breathe but all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the small area.

"I'm due in May," she continued.

The silence stretched between them. He could hear Cameron breathing; waiting for some kind of reaction from him. She was pregnant; carrying his child. A part of him was excited; a larger part was more terrified than he had ever been of anything.

"House?" she questioned, touching his arm lightly. "Did you hear me?"

The doors slid open. He moved forward. "Yep," he told her. "Baby in May. Got it."

He made his way to Wilson's office. Cameron knew him well enough to let him go.

Wilson sat at his desk, working, as usual. House entered the office quietly and sat in the chair opposite Wilson's desk. Wilson looked up at him briefly and continued to work. House began to play with the objects on the desk. At one point, Wilson reached out and took the pen House was tapping on the edge of the desk.

"You obviously want to tell me something," Wilson sighed.

"Cameron is pregnant."

"And how do you feel about that?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged and reached for a paperweight. Wilson grabbed it from his hand.

"House, this is huge. Cameron is having a baby. Your baby."

House stood up and left the office as quietly as he entered it. Wilson leaned back in his chair and sighed.

Shadows danced across the wall. The silence was broken by the occasional car horn. House stared at the ceiling, absently rubbing his thigh. Cameron slept fitfully beside him. He listened as she murmured and shifted beside him. A week had passed since she told him about the baby. Kutner found the team another patient but House found it difficult to focus on anything but Cameron. He found himself watching her; imagining her holding their child. He found himself wanting to see that; longing to see it. The fear was being replaced by excitement. Maybe he could be a good father. Maybe he wouldn't screw a kid up. Maybe he wouldn't follow in his father's footsteps.

Cameron rose from the bed and made her way slowly to the bathroom. House sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He reached for his Vicodin and popped the top off. He was in the process of shaking pills out into his hand when he heard Cameron's agonized scream. The pills rattled across the floor as he ran to the bathroom. He cursed his leg which slowed him down. Cameron lay curled on the bathroom floor, her legs drawn up against her chest. He carefully knelt beside her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Cramps," she gasped, tears running down her cheeks. "It hurts."

House carefully straightened her legs out and placed his hand on her stomach. His breath left him when he saw the blood running down her leg. He stuffed down his own agony and lifted her in his arms. The pain in his heart outweighed the pain in his leg. He slowly made his way down the hallway and nearly made it to the door when he stumbled. He tried to compensate but ended up crashing to his knees on the floor. Cameron gasped as his arms tightened around her and he slowly pushed himself back up.

"House," she cried. "Greg, don't. You'll hurt yourself."

"I need to get you to the hospital."

"It won't matter. It's too late."

He fumbled with the door. "No. We can get you to the hospital and-"

Sobs shook her body. "No. It's too late. It's too late."

Slowly, House sank down to the floor, still cradling her in his arms. She buried her face in his neck. He could feel her blood seeping into his pajama pants.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry."

House leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. "It's not your fault," he responded dully.

House sat on the couch. Muddy Waters sang mournfully from the stereo. House leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Cameron had gone out three hours ago. There was no patient to distract him from his pain. Wilson was busy with Amber. The two had begun dating a few weeks ago. House supposed Wilson knew what he was doing. Amber was nothing like the other women Wilson dated.

He stared at the Christmas tree by the fireplace. Cameron had wanted it. The sight of it brought back memories of his own childhood; some good, mostly bad. He reached out and picked up his beer bottle. Slowly, he rose and made his way to the piano. He shut off the stereo and then sat down on the piano bench. He placed his beer bottle on the coaster Cameron had placed on the top of the piano. He smiled slightly as he remembered her horrified expression when he'd placed his glass on the smooth surface. He trailed his fingers over the keys and began to play. The sound of Christmas music filled the apartment.

He was unaware of the door opening and Cameron entering. He was playing a particularly complex piece and had closed his eyes. He leaned back against her warm body when she slid her arms around his shoulders. He felt her press a kiss against his neck and smiiled. The music trailed off and silence filled the room.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"To the salon."

He turned his head and his eyes widened.

"I needed a change," she told him.

House looked at her hair. He reached out and twisted a shining blonde strand around his finger.

"It's sexy," he told her.

Cameron smiled slightly.

"I saw the doctor today," she told him.

House turned back to the paino and began to idly play. "Good," he replied.

"I know the pregnancy wasn't planned," she told him. "But I'd like to have a baby at some point. With you."

"Good."

Cameron sighed. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me how you feel."

House continued to stare at the piano keys, watching his hands move over them. "I don't do feelings," he reminded her. He stiffened slightly when her hands began to massage his shoulders.

"Do you want a baby?" she asked quietly.

House glanced at her over his shoulder. He looked back down at the keys. Did he want a baby? He did when she was pregnant, but the miscarriage hurt more than anything he had ever experienced.

"I don't know," he told her honestly. "I did, but now…" His voice trailed off.

She sat down beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "The doctor said there is no reason I can't have a normal pregnancy."

He nodded.

"But you need time." she said.

He placed his hands in his lap and looked at her. She lightly touched his face. His eyes drifted closed and she gently pressed her lips against his. His arms slid around her and he deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue into her mouth. Pushing the piano bench back, he lifted her up and lowered her to the floor. He pushed her sweater up and ran his fingers over her taut stomach. Pressing his lips against her fragrant skin, he unbuttoned her pants. He slid them down her legs and tossed them to one side. His teeth grazed her inner thigh and she moaned softly. He slid her sweater over her head and ran his hand over her sliky blonde hair. He looked down into her eyes and trailed his fingers over her shoulder, pushing her bra strap down. He kissed her again, stroking his hands around her back to unhook her bra. He flung the lacy garment over the piano. Lowering his head, he took her left nipple into his mouth and felt it harden beneath his tongue. Her hands threaded through his hair. He sat back and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. She reached out and ran her hand over his chest and down his stomach. He stood and removed the rest of his clothes before lying beside her again. He propped himself up on one elbow and ran his finger along the edge of her panties. Her stomach muscles contracted at his feather light touch. Hooking his finger beneath the lacy edge, he eased them down and tossed them over his shoulder. He lowered his head and kissed her hip.

"Now," she whispered. "Now."

She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. He closed his eyes as she slid down on him. He felt her hands grip his shoulders as she began to move. Sliding his hand down her stomach, he looked up at her face. Her eyes were closed and she gasped as she thrust against him. His fingers came to rest between her legs and he rubbed the swollen nub causing her to cry out. He tilted his head and trailed his other hand over her breasts, rubbing her taut nipples. He smiled when he felt her muscles clamp down on him and she arched her back as she climaxed. She gasped his name and leaned forward, her pale hair brushing his chest.

He felt his stomach muscles tighten and grabbed her hips. He thrust up against her and felt pleasure pulse through him. He jerked against her and she fell forward to rest against his chest.

He buried his face in her neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

She rose up slightly and looked at him. Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked to keep them from falling.

"You've never said that before," she said.

"Yeah, well, I'm an idiot," he smiled.

"I love you, too," she smiled, leaning down to kiss him.

House wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss. He decided to try to be the type of man she deserved. He'd never believed people could change, but he was going to try. For her.

House dumped his backpack behind his desk and turned on his computer. He flipped through the mail lying on his desk while he waited for the computer to boot up. The computer emitted a soft chirp and he turned to look at his calendar. The reminder box popped up and he stared at for several minutes. The words seemed to recede as he stared at them. He remembered typing the reminder in about five months ago. He'd forgotten to take it out. He reached out and touched the screen, running his fingers over the letters.

_Baby due_.

Today was the day the doctor had told them their baby was due to arrive. House had known that due dates were never exact but he had typed it in anyway. He'd planned to type in the exact day she gave birth to see how close the doctor had been. Now he would never know.

He rose from his desk and grabbed his cane. He was unaware of Kutner calling out to him. He had to get as far away from the reminder on his computer as he could.

The bartender grabbed House's keys when he pulled them out. House blew out an exasperated breath and picked up his phone. He squinted at the display screen and dropped it on the bar.

"If you're gonna take my keys," he slurred out. "I should at least get a phone call."

"Use your cell phone," the bartender told him.

"Battery's dead," House replied.

The bartender sighed and handed House the phone. House debated for a moment before dialing.

He sat back in surprise when Amber answered the phone.

"Where's Wilson and why are you answering his phone?" he questioned.

"Wilson is on call and I live here now," she informed him.

"Since when?" he asked.

"Where are you?" she countered, avoiding his question.

"A bar. I need Wilson to pick me up."

"Which bar?" she asked.

House held the phone away from his ear. "Hey," he called out to the bartender. "What's the name of this place?"

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Sherrie's."

House brought the phone back up to his ear. "Sherrie's," he told her and clicked the phone off.

The next thing House knew he was wandering down the street. He had no idea where he was or what had happened. A police officer stopped him and took him to the ER at Princeton Plainsboro.

The ER was crowded with casualties from a bus wreck. House began to slowly piece together what happened. The next morning he and Wilson went to Princeton General and brought Amber back to PPTH. Wilson, in a fit of desperation, convinced House to undergo deep brain stimulation to jar his memory. House coerced Chase into helping them and they kept Cameron busy with patients to keep her from finding out. When House realized that Amber would die no matter what they did for her, he looked at Wilson with tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," House whispered.

Wilson looked at him in shock. "No," he whispered in horror.

Chase found Cameron in the ER suturing a patient's arm.

"Cameron," he said. "I need to talk to you."

"In a minute," she responded.

Kutner came forward and took the suture needle from her. "Go on," he told her. "I'll finish up here."

Chase pulled Cameron to a quiet corner and told her that House was in a coma. He explained as calmly as he could what had happened.

She stared at him for a moment and then her hand shot out. Chase staggered from the force of the blow. He watched as she ran from the room.

Cuddy looked up when Cameron entered House's ICU room. She looked at Dobson and motioned for him to follow her out.

"He hasn't regained consciousness yet," she told Cameron as she passed.

Cameron moved slowly to stand beside House's bed. Gently, she lifted his hand.

"Greg?" she whispered.

His eyelids fluttered and then he slowly opened his eyes.

Leaning down, she rested her forehead against his. She felt his hand brush against her cheek.

"Why?" she asked.

He looked at her. What could he say? He tried to form the words but nothing came out. He tried again and this time a hoarse whisper escaped him.

"Computer," he rasped.

She shook her head. "What about it?"

"Reminder."

He watched as her mind put everything together. Tears rolled down her face and she buried her face in his shoulder. He brought his hand up to rest on her head. Over her shoulder, he saw Wilson. The stunned grief on Wilson's face hit him like a shot. Amber was dead. He wanted to call out to his friend; apologize. Would Wilson ever forgive him?


	6. Chapter 6

House slumped down in the wheelchair. He scanned the lobby hoping to catch a glimpse of Wilson. He saw Foreman exit the clinic and slouched down further when Cameron stopped to talk to the neurologist. House stared sullenly ahead while the two exchanged pleasantries.

"So," Foreman said. "You're going home today, House?"

"You always were intuitive," House remarked, sarcasm tingeing his words. "What gave me away?"

Cameron placed her hand on his shoulder and House slumped down further.

"Same old House," Foreman laughed.

"Why the hell did you come back?" House asked in irritation.

"Cuddy made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Foreman told him.

"In other words, you couldn't get a job anywhere else so you came crawling back with your tail between your legs and begged for a job."

Foreman folded his arms and glared at House.

Cameron removed her hand from House's shoulder and smiled at Foreman.

"It's good to have you back," she told Foreman.

"Thanks," Foreman replied and began walking toward the elevators.

Cameron began pushing House toward the doors again.

"He's not here," she commented softly.

"Who?" House asked trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Wilson."

"Didn't expect him to be."

Cameron pushed him through the doors and out into the bright sunlight. He saw her car and sat up. She set the brakes on the wheelchair and he stood up. She opened the car door and he slid in, fastening his seatbelt. Cameron put his cane and bag into the backseat and moved around to slide behind the wheel.

They rode home in silence. Cameron parked outside the apartment and House opened the car door. He carefully swung his legs out and tried to stand but a wave of dizziness stopped him. He leaned against the seat and waited for it to pass. Cameron handed him his cane and held out her hand.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied. He grabbed her hand and allowed her to help him stand. He swayed slightly and she moved to put her arm around him. Leaning on her, he slowly made his way to the door. He leaned against the wall and waited for her to unlock the door. Cameron moved to support him again and they entered the apartment. She led him down the hallway to the bedroom. Guiding him to the bed, she helped him sit and bent down to remove his shoes.

"You shouldn't have to do this," he told her as she helped him stand and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"I want to do this," she said. She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He sat as she slid them down his legs. He watched her pick up his clothes and toss them into the hamper. She pulled one of his old t-shirts and pajama bottoms from the bureau. She pulled the pajama bottoms up his legs and helped him stand while she pulled them up to his waist. She pushed him down again and slid the t-shirt over his head. She got him settled in the bed and disappeared down the hallway. She returned a few minutes later with his medications and a glass of water. He sat up and swallowed the pills with the water. Cameron settled him back in the bed and kissed him gently.

"Get some sleep," she told him. "I'll bring you some lunch later."

House rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. He listened to her leave, closing the door behind her. He waited a few minutes and then sat up in the bed. Picking up the phone, he dialed Wilson's number. He hung up when it went to voicemail. He lay back down and closed his eyes. It had been three weeks since Amber's death and Wilson had not spoken to him in all that time. He was on the verge of sleep when the phone rang. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

The bedroom door opened and Cameron entered quietly.

"Greg?"

He turned to look at her. She hadn't called him House since the accident. He liked hearing her call him by his first name. He didn't think he would. He would never allow anyone else to call him Greg, but he enjoyed hearing her say it. He'd begun calling her Alison. Sometimes he called her Allie which made her smile.

"Who called?" he asked.

"Your mom. She wanted to know how you are."

"Did you lie and tell her I'm perfect?"

She sat on the edge of the bed. "No, I told her the truth."

"No one can lie to her."

"He'll come back," she told him.

"If he's smart, he won't," House replied. "If you were smart, you'd leave, too."

"Go to sleep," she smiled. She started to rise and then turned to look at him. "Do you want me to lie down with you?"

House nodded. Cameron walked around to her side of the bed and kicked her shoes off. She slid beneath the covers and settled beside him.

Exhaustion swept over him and he closed his eyes. Cameron's warmth flowed over him and he slept.

House slouched on the couch in front of the television, watching _Blackadder_. Cameron sat beside him, laughing. On the screen, Prince George lamented his lack of socks which made Cameron laugh harder. When she looked at him, he scowled at her.

"Don't say it," he growled.

"But you do!" she laughed.

"I do not look like the idiot playing Prince George," he grumbled. "You need glasses."

Cameron laughed harder. "But, he's cute."

"He's an idiot," House said again. Leaning back, he closed his eyes.

Cameron turned off the television. "He'll call," she told him. "He just needs time to grieve."

"It's been five weeks," he replied.

Cameron leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him. Her lips were warm as they brushed his throat. The doctor had cleared him a week ago. He wanted her, but he couldn't bring himself to make love to her. He didn't know why; all he knew was he couldn't.

She rested her head on his chest and he slid an arm around her.

The phone rang and Cameron sat up. She reached across House and picked up the receiver.

"Hello," she said. She sat up straighter. "We'll be right there."

She replaced the phone and looked at House with wide, fear filled eyes.

"Wilson was just brought into the ER," she told him. "He tried to kill himself."

"No," House replied, "he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't."

Cameron grabbed her keys and handed House his cane. Holding out her hand, she helped him rise. He shook his head.

"He wouldn't," he said again.

"Greg," Cameron said. "We need to get to the hospital. "

House nodded and followed her out.

Cuddy met them at the ER. "They pumped his stomach," she told them. "He overdosed on sleeping pills."

House moved past her and began pushing back the curtains around each bed, looking for Wilson. He found him at the back in a corner. A tube snaked into his nose and the heart monitor beeped steadily. House used his cane to pull a stool over. Cameron came to stand beside him.

"Why?" House whispered. "Why would he do this?"

Cameron put her arm around him and leaned against him. "He was unhappy," she replied.

House looked up at her. "You've been talking to him."

She looked into his eyes and nodded. "He's in pain and I understand how he feels. I'm sorry. He asked me not to tell you. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I had no idea he would do this."

House looked at his best friend. "He knew you were pregnant." It wasn't a question.

"I went to him because I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"That's why he wasn't surprised when I told him."

Dobson came to stand at the end of Wilson's bed. He lifted the chart and made some notes. Kutner joined him and they began checking Wilson's IVs.

"He's stable," Dobson told them. "We're going to move him up to the ICU."

"What are you two doing here?" House asked.

"We've been working down here while you've been recovering," Kutner told him.

House nodded. "Good," he replied. He rose and stood beside Wilson's bed. "Call me when you get him moved." Taking Cameron's hand, they left the ER.

Kutner called him two hours later. House looked at Cameron. She sat at his desk, sorting his mail. Using his cane, he pushed himself up from his chair.

"Let's go," he told her.

She looked up at him. "Maybe you should go by yourself," she told him.

He shook his head. What he said next was one of the hardest things he'd ever said. He swallowed and looked at a point over her shoulder. "I need you," he told her quietly. "Please." He hung his head and looked at his hands.

She rose quietly and took his hand. "Let's go," she said.

Wilson was awake when they entered.

"You idiot," House told him when he entered. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Get out, House," Wilson rasped.

"Sleeping pills?' House continued, moving to stand beside the bed. "What are you, a girl?"

Cameron stood at the end of the bed. "House," she said warningly.

"If you're going to off yourself," House sneered, "at least be a man about it. Use a gun or slit your wrists."

"Or do it slowly using Vicodin and alcohol?" Wilson countered.

Cameron looked from one to the other. She noticed Wilson had more color in his face than he did when they came in. She looked at House again. He shot her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. She moved to sit on the couch and picked up a magazine.

"Oh, right," House sighed. "I'm slowly trying to kill myself by managing my pain. God, you are so self-righteous."

"Me?" Wilson countered. "You killed my girlfriend! You never once showed an ounce of remorse. You didn't even come to her funeral."

"I was recovering from the deep brain stimulation you guilted me in to doing to save your precious girlfriend."

"Who wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't been drunk! What were you doing drinking in the middle of the day?"

"I need a reason to get drunK?" House grumbled.

"You'd been doing better," Wilson said. "You were happy and then out of the blue you got drunk. I want to know why. I deserve to know why."

"You deserve to know?" House snarled. "I deserved to know that you've been talking to my girlfriend behind my back. I deserved to know that she was pregnant before you did, you sanctimonious bastard."

Cameron put the magazine down and sat forward on the couch.

"Stop evading the question," Wilson told him. "Why were you drunk? Cameron makes you happy. You were acting like a decent human being, treating people with respect."

House stared sullenly at the IV pole.

"Tell him," Cameron said quietly.

"What possible reason could you have for getting drunk on that particular day?" Wilson asked again.

House leaned over him. "Our baby was due that day," he snarled in Wilson's face. "How's that for a reason? Good enough for you?" He straightened and began limping toward the door. Cameron stood and looked at Wilson.

"I'm sorry," Wilson whispered. "I didn't know."

House stopped and closed his eyes. Cameron came to stand beside House.

"I'm sorry," House said quietly. "I shouldn't have gone out to that bar. I shouldn't have called you. I shouldn't have gotten on that bus."

"I should have talked to you," Wilson replied. "I just miss Amber so much."

House turned back and pulled a stool up to the bed. He picked at the edge of the blanket. "I know," he said.

"Did you want the baby?" Wilson asked.

House tapped his cane on the floor. "Yeah," he nodded.

Wilson leaned back and closed his eyes. Tears streamed down his face.

"You're such a girl," House remarked without mailce.

"Shut up, House," Wilson sniffed.

"Are we okay?" House asked, looking at Wilson out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, we're okay."

"You're still a girl," House told him.

"And you're still an ass," Wilson told him.

House stood up. "You're coming home with us when you get released," he informed Wilson. "Cameron likes playing nurse."

Wilson looked at Cameron and she nodded. "You shouldn't go home by yourself," she told him.

"I don't want to be a burden," he told her.

"Oh, stop being such a martyr," House sighed.

"I'm not being a martyr," Wilson told him indignantly. "Unlike you, I don't expect people to take care of me."

"Whatever," House sneered.

"We're going to let you rest," Cameron told Wilson. "We'll come back later."

Wilson and House sat on the couch watching a monster truck rally on television. Cameron was in the kitchen cooking dinner.

House looked at Wilson. "I hope you like vegetables," he said. "We eat a lot of vegetables. Fruit, too."

Wilson nodded. "Unlike you, I like vegetables. Fruit, too."

"Liar," House countered. "You're just sucking up to her."

"Think what you like," Wilson smirked.

Cameron brought two plates out and put them on the coffee table. House grabbed her hand and pulled her down to kiss her.

"Are you eating with us?" he asked her.

She smiled and nodded. House leaned forward and picked up his plate. He sniffed the food and then picked up a fork.

"Told you," he whispered to Wilson. "Vegetables."

"I like Pasta Primavera,' Wilson told him.

"Suck up," House said.

Wilson laughed.

House awoke from a deep sleep. He reached for Cameron but found the bed empty. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood up and pressed his hand against his right thigh. Slowly, he limped out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He stopped when he saw Wilson and Cameron sitting on the couch, talking quietly. Leaning against the wall, he watched his best friend and the woman he loved.

"The pain never really goes away," Cameron was saying. "But it does get easier. It just takes time."

"It's worse at night," Wilson told her. "I can keep busy during the day. But, at night…"

Cameron reached out and touched his hand. "You just need to give yourself time. You can stay with us as long as you need to."

"I don't want to impose," Wilson replied.

House rolled his eyes.

"You're not imposing," Cameron assured him. "We love having you here. I think we need to get a fold out couch, though."

"Wilson doesn't mind sleeping on the couch," House commented. "We don't want him to get spoiled."

Cameron turned to look at him.

"Why are you up?" she asked.

"I woke up and you were gone," House told her.

"You should go back to bed," Wilson told her.

"Are you going to be okay?" she questioned with concern.

"He's fine," House replied.

Wilson nodded. "I'll be fine."

"See?" House told her. "He'll be fine. Come back to bed."

"Your sensitivity overwhelms me," Wilson drawled.

House smirked and draped his arm over Cameron's shoulder. Leaning on her, he led her back to their room.

Once they were settled back in bed, House rolled over to look at her.

"How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

Cameron snuggled up against him. "He's having a hard time," Cameron told him. "He misses Amber and the therapy isn't helping much."

House looked at the opposite wall. "We could get a bigger place."

"Are you saying you want to have Wilson live with us?"

House shrugged. "Maybe."

"It might be nice to buy a house," she told him.

"With a picket fence?"

"No picket fence," she laughed.

"Thank God," he sighed.

Six months later, they sat on the front porch of their new house.

"Call Wilson," House told Cameron. "Remind him he has a curfew."

Cameron laughed. "You call him. He's on a date, remember?"

"Exactly," House said. "He may want an out."

House's cell phone rang. He raised his eyebrows at Cameron as he pulled it out. "Fifty bucks says it's Wilson wanting me to save his ass," he told her.

Cameron shook her head.

"Yeah," he said into the phone. He sat forward and frowned. "When?" He listened and his frown deepened. "Are you sure?" He snapped his phone shut.

"Dobson's dead," he told Cameron. "Heart attack." He sat back.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

House shrugged. "Sure."

"Greg, Henry died. You liked him."

"He was old. People die."

Cameron sighed.

House sat at his desk looking over resumes. He removed his glasses and sat back.

"Why do I have to do this?" he asked Cameron.

"Because Kutner and I can't do everything," she told him.

"I want to make you an assistant department head."

Cameron looked up at him. "Really?" she asked.

"I also want to marry you."

Cameron stared at him in shock.

"Well, say something," he told her.

"You want to marry me?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

She blinked several times.

"I bought a ring," he told her. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small jeweler's box. He pushed it across the desk to her. "I can't get down on my knee and I'm no good at romantic gestures."

Cameron reached out and picked up the box. She gasped when she opened it.

"So?" he asked. "I know I'm not a catch-" He grunted when she landed on his lap and flung her arms around his neck.

"Yes," she cried, pressing kisses against his face.

"Leg," he grunted, shifting her on his lap.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him. His arms moved around her waist and he pulled her closer.

She leaned back and smiled at him. "How would you feel about eloping?"

"You don't want a big wedding?" he asked with a smile.

"I just want to marry you," she told him.

He reachd behind her and picked up the jeweler's box. Thumbing it open, he pulled out the ring he chose for her. Lifting her left hand, he slipped the ring onto her finger.

"It's nice," he told her.

"It's perfect," she replied.

"You asked her," Wilson said from the doorway.

Cameron turned and smiled at him.

"Congratulations," Wilson smiled.

House saw the sadness in his friend's eyes. He looked down at the simple diamond on Cameron's hand. When he'd gone to Wilson to get help choosing the ring, Wilson had confided to House that he'd planned to propose to Amber.

"Need a best man," House told him.

Wilson nodded. He moved into the office and stood at the edge of House's desk.

"We're going to elope," Cameron told him.

"Atlantic City?" Wilson asked.

House smirked.

"Road trip," the two men said in unison.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to finish this. I got a serious case of writer's block with this one. But it is now complete.**

~*~*~*

Foreman stared at Cameron in surprise.

"You and House are getting married and you want me to be your... maid of honor? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a girl," he told her.

"You're my closest friend," she told him. "It's traditional for the bride's closest friend to stand with her at the wedding."

"Traditional, huh?" he asked. He smiled. "Okay. But I'm not wearing some fluffy dress."

Cameron hugged him and smiled. "No dress. I promise. And we're going to Atlantic City to get married. Wilson is driving."

"A road trip with House and Wilson?" he groaned.

"It'll be fun," she assured him.

"Right, fun," he said skeptically.

~*~*~*

Wilson leaned against his car and looked at Foreman. They were waiting outside House and Cameron's apartment.

"You realize House is never going to let you live this down, right?" Wilson asked him.

"I'm doing this for Cameron. House can kiss my ass," Foreman told him. He jumped forward when Cameron emerged carrying a large dress bag. Wilson moved forward to take the bags from House. Foreman waited while Wilson popped the trunk and dropped the bags inside. He carefully laid the dress bag over the bags and slammed the trunk shut.

"So, Foreman," House smirked. "Did you match your dress to Jimmy's tie? I understand it's important for the maid of honor and best man to coordinate."

"Kiss my ass, House," Foreman snapped, opening the passenger door and sliding in.

House laughed as he opened the back door for Cameron and waited for her to slide across the seat. He handed her his cane and then slid in beside her.

"Ready?" Wilson asked as he started the engine.

"Yeah," House grunted, trying to get comfortable in the backseat. "Did you get snacks?"

"In the bag on the floorboard," Wilson told him. He pulled out into traffic.

House reached down and opened the bag. "Gummy Bears?" he grumbled, rummaging through the bag.

"Those are mine," Cameron told him, grabbing the candy.

"You're such a girl," House remarked, still digging through the bag.

Cameron smiled at him. "You like that about me, though," she reminded him.

He turned to her with a lazy smile. He tossed the bag onto the floor of the car and leaned forward to kiss her. Foreman rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to do that the whole way?" he asked.

"Yep," House replied.

Foreman shook his head and looked out the window, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the back seat. Finally, he leaned forward and turned on the radio.

Wilson laughed quietly.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Foreman said.

"You're doing a nice thing for a friend. I know Cameron appreciates it. So does House," Wilson told him.

Foreman glanced into the back seat and saw House leaning against Cameron, stroking her fingers. The look on House's face stunned Foreman. His boss actually looked happy and content. Foreman never thought he would see such an expression on House's face. He looked at Cameron and saw how radiant she looked. He turned back to focus on the road. Maybe this would turn out to be okay after all.

House ended up sleeping during most of the trip, his head resting in Cameron's lap. Wilson checked on him when he stopped for gas.

"He okay?' he asked Cameron.

She nodded. "His leg was hurting," she told him.

"_Was_ hurting?"

Cameron averted her eyes.

Wilson sighed and turned back to start the car. House had obviously gotten Cameron to give him something stronger than Vicodin for the pain.

He and Foreman helped House out of the car when they arrived at the hotel. Whatever he had taken made him groggy and unsteady on his feet. They took him up to the Bridal Suite and deposited him on the bed.

Foreman looked around at the spacious suite. Cameron stood in the doorway looking around in surprise.

"I take it you didn't know he'd done this?" Wilson asked gently.

She shook her head and brushed at the tears that filled her eyes.

"He wanted everything to be perfect for you," Wilson told her with a smile. He and Foreman left her alone with House.

Cameron picked up her dress bag and hung it in the closet. She unpacked a few things and then checked on House. He groaned when she sat on the bed beside him.

"Water?" he rasped.

"I'll get you some," she told him. She went to the mini bar and pulled out a bottle of water. Opening it, she returned to his side. She helped him sit up and watched as he drained the bottle.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better," he told her. He looked around the suite. "I see you've settled in."

She stroked his face. "It's perfect."

"Yeah, well, I plan to do this one time only," he told her. "So I figured I may as well do it up right."

"Are you hungry?"

He smiled. "Starving."

"Let's call Wilson and Foreman and go out for dinner," she said.

He leaned back against the pillows and groaned. "Really?"

She moved closer to him and kissed him. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Fine," he grumbled. Once she turned her back to make the calls, he smiled.

~*~*~*

"Hold still," Wilson admonished. He straightened House's tie and stood back. House ran a finger beneath the collar of his dress shirt. He smoothed down the silver silk tie and buttoned his dark grey suit jacket. The small chapel was empty. The minister stood patiently waiting.

"Stop staring at me," House grumbled.

"Sorry," Wilson said. He smiled. "You look really nice, House."

"Alison picked it out."

Foreman joined them and stopped short at the sight of House.

"You shaved," Foreman commented. "And you brushed your hair."

House rolled his eyes. "You act like I never do those things."

"You don't," Foreman told him. "Are you ready? Cause Cameron will be out in a few minutes."

House nodded.

"You okay?" Wilson asked quietly.

House drew in a deep breath and released it. "I don't want to disappoint her," he admitted.

Wilson patted his arm. "You won't."

"Gentlemen?" the minister called. "Will you take your places, please? We're ready to begin."

House and Wilson moved forward and stood beside the minister. Foreman opened the doors at the back of the chapel and held out his arm for Cameron.

House's breath caught in his throat and he felt tears sting his eyes. She wore a floor length white gown and carried a small bouquet of daisies. Her hair was held back with a pearl headband and fell over her shoulders in soft blonde curls. House had always acknowledged that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen but today she literally took his breath away.

"Breathe," Wilson whispered.

House gasped and released the breath he'd been holding. Cameron stopped at his side and smiled up at him. Foreman moved to stand on her left side.

The minister smiled. "Will you please, as an expression that your hearts are joined together in love, now join your hands?"

House turned to Cameron and took her hand in his. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

"Gregory," the minister continued, "do you take Alison to be your wedded wife; to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor her and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others be faithful only to her so long as you both shall live?"

House looked down at her hand and then back up at her again. "I will."

Cameron smiled.

"Alison, do you take Gregory to be your lawful wedded husband; to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?"

"I will," she replied.

"The rings, please?" the minister asked. Wilson placed Cameron's ring in House's hand while Foreman took Cameron's bouquet and handed her House's ring.

House took her hand and slid the band of diamonds onto her finger. His hand shook slightly when she slid the platinum band on his finger. Her fingers closed around his and she smiled up at him.

"Having thus pledged yourselves to each other, I do now, by virtue of the authority vested in my by the state of New Jersey, pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride," the minster smiled.

"Finally," House said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently.

~*~*~*

House got rid of Wilson and Foreman. He stood with Cameron outside their suite. She reached out to open the door.

"Wait," he told her. He pushed the door open and tossed his cane inside. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her into his arms and limped across the threshold into the room. He set her down and rubbed his thigh. Cameron closed the door and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"So, how do I get you out of this dress?" he asked.

Cameron turned so that her back faced him. "Pull the zipper down,' she said.

He carefully slid the zipper down. She slipped her arms from the dress and let it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it and turned to face him. He looked at the lacy corset, silky panties, frilly garters and sheer stockings with a smirk.

He moved toward her and soon had her stripped, the undergarments lying at their feet. She undressed him slowly and allowed him to move her toward the bed. She sat down on it and pulled him down on top of her. He kissed and caressed every inch of her soft skin. She sighed and moaned as his mouth and hands moved over her. She pushed him onto his back and conducted her own exploration. He groaned as her mouth and hands moved over him.

"Let's consummate this marriage," he panted. He pushed her onto her back and moved over her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he thrust into her.

"I love you," he whispered against her neck.

"I love you, too," she gasped. "Oh, yes!"

He felt her muscles clamp down as she climaxed. As pleasure shuddered through her, he slowed his thrusts and waited for the shockwaves to dissipate. When she relaxed beneath him, he began to move again, faster and harder. She jerked beneath him, shouting his name as she climaxed again. Then everything but the feeling of her body faded as his own orgasm shook him and left him breathless.

He rolled off her and lay gasping for breath.

"So," he said finally. "That was nice. We'll have to make sure we do this every day."

"For the rest of our lives?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied. "Why not?"

She laughed and moved to curl up against him. "Okay."

He pulled the covers up over them and settled back against the pillows. He smiled.

"For the rest of our lives," he said.

"For the rest of our lives," she murmured sleepily.

"I can do that," he told her.


End file.
